Reminiscence of Rain
by cat'n'mouse
Summary: He woke in a demolished world, listening to the sound of rain as the girl beside him cried.


**Reminiscence of Rain**

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><p><em>Do you remember the times,<em>

_when it felt like the sky itself was_

_crying?_

* * *

><p>He was meant to go home.<br>He had always meant to go home; they/his family and friends/were waiting for him. He hadn't meant to leave for so long.  
>But why…<br>Why was he here?  
>He needed to leave, to go. He shouldn't dawdle here. Home was in danger. He –<br>Outside, it was raining. He stopped to listen to the soft dropping of liquid against the muddy ground. The hundreds/thousands/millions of raindrops sang to a steady rhythm.

Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter.

_Rain/storm/mud hit his face, his eyes can't really focus. Something hard/stones?/hail?/Blades? attacks his body and pain spasms through his muscles. The swirling of elements; the fear; the shaking of the ground…  
><em>_ The pressing need to arrive home…  
><em>_ Screams?  
><em>_ Everything is falling, and all he can do is watch._

He pushed up against the hard surface/table/bed that he had been lying on, his arms quivering with effort. Brown/burgundy blemishes decorated the ceiling – ceiling? Fabric ceiling? – and mud stains slid slowly down the acicular top.  
>Tent? The strange word bounced into his mouth. He fought the urge to try it out.<br>Tent. Tent. Tent.  
>His voice was strangely dryhoarse as the single syllable quivered with hesitance. He didn't remember what his voice sounded like before he woke up.  
>And then someone was shaking him heavily – or lightly? His head was dizzyhurt and he wanted the shaking to stop. The goddamned shaking/trembling/quaking that was killing him.  
>"- up?"<br>Green eyes filled with tears found his own. He tore his gaze away.

The rain danced like falling beads.  
>Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter.<p>

_The words/toxin/venom is hard to swallow. Familiar words. So stupidly familiar. So painful. He doesn't want them. Not the words. Not the meaningless sentences. Never. But – 'Believe it!'  
><em> '_Demon!'  
><em> '_Ignore them.'  
><em> '_Die.'  
><em> '_Suffer for me.'  
><em> '_Don't give up!'  
><em> '_Promise?'  
><em>_ Typical phrases that leaves bad tastes in his mouth/Lies.  
><em>_ Promises made to him were never fulfilled anyway.  
><em>_ But he still needs to return. Green eyes is waiting for him._

'_Smile for me!'  
><em>_ He does, but green eyes don't.  
><em>_ Green eyes glares/cries.  
><em>_ Green eyes/pink hair/anger/sadness turns away.  
><em>_ He watches them leave before beginning his own journey._

He heard the sound of rain and he followed, the green eyes forgotten no more than a second after he had seen them. His feet felt something sharp – rocks?/glass? – but a little physical pain/injury didn't matter.  
>The rain will bring him home. It was raining before he –<br>Before he…  
>Before he what?<p>

Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter.

_Maybe it's rage. Maybe it's fear. But the simple sight of the familiar village – _but how is it familiar? he doesn't remember the faces or the tall tower or the sunshine or the warmth or the mist that is slowly crawling in to cover what he sees_– sends his brain into _nonononono_ and _turn around with your head holding high.  
><em> He really did mean to go home.<br>__ He really did try.  
><em>_ He really did mean to protect his precious people.  
><em>_ But he was so afraid/such a coward. And…_

_Where is home?  
><em>(Where is home?)

He started searching his brain for memories/things/thoughts. Anything. Fragments swam – the rain (always the rain, pouring/hitting/biting/showering), the crumbling buildings, the red clouds, the noise, the screaming, the hurt, the families, the arguments and –  
>Nothing.<br>All he found was blankness/darkness and the endless vastness that stretched beyond his thoughts, and the constant drizzle that surrounded him and green eyes. Crying/angry/guilty green eyes.  
>And -<br>Water/tears. Dripping. Dripping.  
>Maybe the rain will bring him answers.<br>He left the tent – tent? Maybe it was a house and his head was just too fuzzy to tell the difference – with his eyes closed. He didn't want to see. It was too bright.

Liquid crawled along his skin, leaving trails after trails of stains until his whole body was nothing but paths for tears.  
>Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter.<p>

_He tries to return – _return where? The place that felt like home was just clouds of white that slithered along the ground. He couldn't/won't/didn't see_ – but nothing feels right. He has a future here, a chance to succeed/have a new family/make friends/not fail here. Not a broken/deceitful/manipulative/hateful village of people that curses his very being. There are opportunities here, fair chances, and freedom.  
><em>_ But at home there are green eyes. Blue eyes that once smiled/laughed/shone and green eyes that didn't hate. Green eyes that waited.  
><em>_ Green eyes that needed protection.  
><em>_ And it hurts/burns to think of the longing green eyes._

His eyes met the debris outside. Boulders weighed down on collapsed houses' shoulders; mud ran freely on the broken up street; thousands of white tents sat – dirty, worn, tired – along a rocky clearing. And to his left, it seemed as if a mountain had fallen over.  
>His eyes met the aftermaths of destruction, and he saw the once-blue sky crying.<p>

Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter.

_They – _who? – _tells him return because the red clouds are planning something. He needs to face his past anyway. He still has precious people to protect.  
><em>_ He doesn't listen, because he is stubborn/headstrong and he wants to prove his point.  
><em>_ He should've listened to them – _his new family?/friends?. _He should've returned early.  
><em>_ The earth is shaking/trembling/quaking and the elements are swirling/killing/destroying and he hears the sky howl as black tears rain upon the land.  
><em>_ The red clouds are angry, and they are killing the village in rage.  
><em>_ He stops to see the world fall and break.  
><em>_ He stops – vaguely aware of panic/shrieks/fear – and he watches lives disappear.  
><em>_ He stops to pray. For the safety of green eyes.  
><em>_ And then he fights, to protect._

The rain was singing as he followed their calls. They sent with their voices messages of his past – of his home – in angels voices and he – as curious as a new born – answered, eager/stumbling but still following.  
>And suddenly all the heads outside turned. Millions of eyes – blue, green, black, brown, gold – filled with respectthankfulness watched him, and then they cheered, happiness radiating from their voices. He didn't understand. He hasn't done anything for them, right?  
>Movement caught the corner of his eyes and he whirled around. Green eyes sobbed and pink hair buried itself into his chest. He stood stiffly, confusednot knowing what to do.  
>"-so afraid. Pein was killing everyone and Akatsuki was destroying everything and I thought you were dead because you weren't here – "<br>Where was here?  
>His brain didn't have an answer.<p>

The path behind her crawled ahead into the obscure darkness, promising answers. He wanted to follow.  
>Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter.<p>

_There is fear in his bones. There is fear everywhere. He doesn't know – he just doesn't know what to do. People are running/screaming/saving/dying and he wants to flee/escape but he doesn't know how and he needs to protect his precious.  
><em>_ Rocks are dropping from the sky, rolling/crushing/smashing anything and everything. Fire and water and wind and earth and lightning and explosions – all from jutsus? – targets anyone in their range and bodies are dropping like flies.  
><em>_ The pain hits him like a tidal wave. The house behind him collapses into a thousand pieces. The howling sky falls onto his torso and he screams with the wind.  
><em>_ But suddenly he stops – everything; no yells, no pain, no panic - and the last thing he sees, in the distance, are horrified/happy/worrying green eyes.  
><em>_ And they tell him to fight, to defend, to attack. And he does. He battles the red clouds with furious rigor, determined to protect._

It seemed real enough, the green was no hallucination and definitely real, true to the exact shade.  
>Green eyes kept talkingtalking/sobbing and he stood and watched, fascinated, as a strangely warm feeling bloomed in his chest.  
>He didn't understand.<br>Who was she?  
>Green eyes and green eyes and green eyes and green eyes. Green eyes that somehow made a mad man's village feel like home, green eyes that wanted him to return. Green eyes, haunting his thoughts, haunting the images that flashed before his eyes. Haunting the rain.<br>But he just couldn't _remember_.

She didn't notice his confusion. She wrapped her arms around him and cried.

And the rain kept falling.

_Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter._

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.<strong>

**A/N: ** **I hope that was confusing. Because it was supposed to be.****  
><strong>**If anyone thinks that they know what's going on, review/message me and I'll confirm your suspicions.****  
><strong>**Criticism is welcomed :)**

**Update: I just reread this and realized that there's actually a lot I can improve on, but it's such a pain and i just can't find the energy right now. I'm so sorry. Maybe I'll go through it someday, but not now.**


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